Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Art
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The Silver Needle Theatre appears when foresight steals the spotlight. She's the only venue equipped to show what can only be seen inside the mind. So here I am in the balcony, watching you speak to a packed house. You are dressed in your best white button down, blue jeans, and grey suede shoes. Your…
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You were a guy Patty and I chased around town; from The Fabulous Rainbow Tavern to Scoundrel's Lair to the Mural Amphitheatre. You always said hello to us by name (even though you probably thought we were a tad bit annoying.) You were really cute, though, and of course sang like no other motherfucker of…
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What I have to offer you on Beltane doesn't pertain to fire, flowers, or fornication, but fertility is definitely in the mix. I give you aspects of me washed ashore by the sea. You know my heart is bobbing out there on the ocean. The little blue bag before you is filled with treasure to…
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And like o.k.: There's this particular writer whose work I've read and enjoyed and whom I find interesting and irritating all in one big, messy mouthful of come-one-come-all (talkin' bout chyoo JD). Yeah so, brutha man goes on about fat folks in his stories and he himself is pretty thin (cute, though – I'm shallow,…
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The dream is meant to be given up just when all the Big Ideas roll in; a most inopportune time. The verdant years of youthful pursuits give way to ass-numbing commutes. Behold, the careerist is born, and Art is an old-fashioned name. Ambition whispers, but the tease is brief and weariness cuts off any outbursts…
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Make up whatever narrativefits the occasionbe a leaderbe a followerbe controlled by: *fashion*popular opinion*the feel-goodswalk in the oppositedirection just topiss people offand then listento what they haveto say about … behaviorliesin thecrackthatseparatesdaydreamsanddone deeds.
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Miss Ruby Kew wishes to thank the Ministry of Reality for her recent appointment as Special Spokesmodel to the General Citizenry for Bitter Fruit. Miss Kew recognizes how important this post is, and promises to uphold the Ministry's mission to inject a little bit of the unappealing into our busy, saccharine-rich lives. Pucker Up and…
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it's ok if the songwriting suffersthe poetry stinkssnapshots of flowersboring/blurry/bathed in shitty lightit's all rightthe big red death moonand a pox on your lipsbrings big big changeand change is magicdisguised as one's biggest fear
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Pepper.Mixed with ink. Throughline – Commuter spills it. Signs.Used to confuse.
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I prefer my music rough around the edges. When it comes to books, though? Ya shit better be tight. Mind your craft, mate. Clunky prose hurts my ear nubs, don't you know? And please, please adhere to the rules you've set up for your world. I can suspend my disbelief for days; no need to…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 